It’s three in the afternoon. The summer heat slams me.
I feel it pummelling the top of my head, see it glittering on the asphalt.
Wires and cables, strung overhead in all directions, drip black ooze. Telephone poles ignite, sizzling like fuses. Stop signs wilt. Concrete melts into seething pools.
Pedestrians burst into flame. They run down County Line Road, screaming, trailing black smoke.
My dashboard spews a pitiful stream of luke-warm air. It smells of flint. I crank up the fan. More noise, but no chilly goodness.
The whole planet’s tipping toward the sun, and we’re plunging, Mississippi-first, into the fiery furnace.
Add comment